Bridge of Dreams
by tehPrincess
Summary: Lady Hawke/Sebastian Vael collection of one-shots. Silliness, smut, fluff, angst, and anything else my muse can dream up. Rated M for sensuality and sexual content.
1. Lessons

_A/N: This is essentially going to be a collection of Sebastian/femHawke related one-shot pieces. From time to time you'll see me skip from a rogue to a mage Hawke, depending on what suits the story better. I like the idea of playing as rogue, but the events of Dragon Age 2 are far more compelling, as are the interactions with Hawke's party members, when she herself is a mage. I also have a very soft spot for Carver, so there's that. _

_Description: Sebastian gives rogue Hawke some archery lessions._

_Warnings: Drunkeness and a stolen kiss._

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><p><strong>Lessons<strong>

The light of the moon glinted off the armor on Sebastian's left shoulder. The glare from the fire and chirping insects faded as he focused, shutting out everything until all that remained was him and the target. He let the arrow fly on an indrawn breath, watching as it sailed past gnarled branches and sank deep into the trunk of a sylvan tree.

"Like so," he said softly. The sky was alight with a million shining stars; it was a clear night, the weather perfect for once as the oppressive summer heat gave way to the darkness. They'd set up camp only a short distance from Merrill's clan of Dalish elves.

Turning, he stopped short as he realized Hawke was standing much closer to him than she'd been when he'd started his demonstration.

She swayed slightly, the effect of too much wine. She rarely drank, and as such had very little knowledge of her tolerance level on the rare occasions that she did indulge. They'd talked about her desire to learn to use a bow; she had a rather nice one tucked away in her weapons chest back home. Sebastian would never need anything but his family bow, and it was too fine for her to consider getting rid of it for the sparse coin the Lowtown stalls would offer.

The decision that this would be a good time to start her lessons was a lamentable one. He'd suggested it only after watching Merrill and Fenris both seek their bedrolls, leaving him and their leader quite alone, as she continued to nurse the bottle the white haired elf had left with her. The idea had originally been to occupy her hands with something that wouldn't add to the headache she'd nurse in the morning. The last time she'd over imbibed, they'd at least had a healer in their group, but Sebastian doubted that Merrill would have the ability to take the edge off.

So the lesson had begun, here in the dark, with a Hawke on unsteady feet.

He placed his bow into her waiting hands, backing up so she'd have room to maneuver. He admired her stance, she stood almost as she did whilst wielding her customary twin blades. The play of firelight on her features made her eyes glitter as she lined up her shot.

"I need an arrow," she said, her voice sounding almost breathless as she squinted in the direction of the tree.

"Of course," he fumbled for his quiver, making sure that her fingers closed tightly around the shaft of the arrow before he let go.

Blowing errant strands of raven hair away from her eyes with a puff of exhaled air, she took aim, as she'd seen him do countless times, and watched as the arrow veered wide, disappearing into the darkness. Hawke laughed, the sound quickly muffled as she clamped a hand over her mouth.

She turned to him, her eyes glowing in the darkness. "Eesh. Maybe I'm too old to be trying this for the first time."

Swallowing audibly, Sebastian handed her another arrow, stepping closer. Wrapping one arm around her, his hands came to rest over hers, moving her arms tighter against her body. "Not so loose," he murmured, feeling his lips brush her hair. His fingertips were warm and calloused on the backs of her hands. "Mind your breathing," he said, and moving one gloved palm against her stomach, he felt her diaphragm expand through her leathers on each indrawn breath.

Feeling breathless now, Hawke decided to simply hold it, feeling a bit lightheaded. Pulling the bowstring taunt, she shot without really trying. "Ha!" she cried as the arrow found its mark.

"Impressive," he said, letting his arms drop back to his sides. She turned to him and they nearly collided. Her excitement lit up her face, and before Sebastian could step back, she reached up, sliding her free hand behind his head, and cupping the back of his neck, placed a quick, hard peck on his open lips. It was over before he could react.

The air seemed to have been sucked into a vacuum; all was silent, save for the crackling of the fire. Sebastian cleared his throat, the sound almost a shout in the darkness. A blush crept up her cheeks as she seemed to remember herself. "Oh. Sorry 'bout that," she stammered in a near mumble as her brows met over her now-troubled eyes.

Moving swiftly, she turned away, taking slow, deliberate steps toward her empty bedroll. She quickly decided to let the fire die on its own, instead of banking it. Without bothering to remove any of her armor, she lay down heavily. Turning to face the darkness, she hugged her knees to her chest and closed her eyes.

He fumbled for something to say until the minutes stretched one into the other and it felt like it was too late.

He sat up watching the fire and wondered if she'd remember anything of tonight come the morning. And if it wouldn't be better if she did forget.


	2. Unexpected

_A/N: Eh, I know that Sebastian and Carver have little to no interaction with each other in-game. But this idea has been pulling at me._

_Description: Carver has a sulk, and lets a little-known fact slip about his sister. Speculation ensues._

_Warnings: Drunkeness (seems to be a theme with me tonight) and mildly offensive subject matter, I suppose._

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><p><strong>Unexpected<strong>

"She's a virgin, you know."

Four pairs of eyes swung over to where Carver slouched in his chair, sulking. He'd been quiet all evening. He'd joined Varric, Fenris, Sebastian, and Anders at the hanged man for a game of diamondback, only to participate very little as he set about the business of getting deliberately and thoroughly drunk.

As the days leading to their impending trip into the deep roads steadily ticked away, Hawke's hotheaded younger sibling was proving to be even more moody than usual.

"Excuse me?" Fenris's deep voice asked in its usual demanding way.

"My sister," Carver explained. They waited, but it seemed as if this was all they'd get without further prompting.

The subject of their current scrutiny was currently out hunting bandits with Isabela, Merrill, and Aveline. Knowing of her plans to set out without her brother in tow, Varric had thought it prudent to include Junior in tonight's manly get together. Now he couldn't help but regret the decision.

"Care to explain why you'd tell us this?" Again, Fenris was the first of them to respond.

Varric chuckled, "Come on. Junior's pulling our leg. He's got to be." Varric's brows rose into his hairline as Carver's only response was to take another long sip from his mug. Irritated now, he continued, "Why in the name of Andraste would you even be at liberty to say one way or the other? Do siblings usually keep track of that sort of thing?" Abruptly changing tactics, he gave a false sigh. "You know what? Never mind. I'm sure that each time Hawke takes a new lover, her brother is the first one she shares all the juicy details with."

Varric's serious tone caused a bark of laughter to issue from Anders, who had yet to comment on the subject.

"Hey... I might be a year younger but that doesn't mean I haven't always been the one to look out for her." Glaring at each of them in turn, Carver continued, "I just thought you should know. The way you all look at her, flirt with her, the innuendo you all have with Isabela... just forget it. Isabela is more than willing to have a go at each and every one of you." He paused. "Assuming she hasn't already. But my sister isn't for that," he groused.

Again, Fenris was the first to reply, "You believe she deserves better than us, which is commendable."

"If she wasn't a mage, she'd be marrying someone like him," Carver said, tipping his head in Sebastian's direction. "I think mother brought us up believing that a strong match might still be possible. With the whole magic thing, she'll need to keep what she's got, if you catch what I'm saying."

Sebastian's eyes dropped to the mug of mead that was cradled between his own gloved fingers. He seemed altogether fascinated with the murky liquid, keeping quiet as everyone else seemed to start talking at once.

Anders, who'd lost his virginity at the tender age of thirteen, was able to make his voice carry better than the rest of them, and therefor was able to get his two bits in next. "Your sister? She's got teasing down to an _art_." Disbelief colored his tone. To his thinking, magic and promiscuity just went together. Things may have been different for Hawke, being an apostate instead of a circle mage, but he'd never seen her as anything different than what they'd all assumed her to be. Or more accurately, what she presented herself to be.

Varric cut in next, "Are you sure? There's a lot of farm boys back in Ferelden, isn't there? Seems to me that's about all there is to occupy the time in such a life."

Pink tinged the high slopes of Carver's cheekbones at this. "Well, I never had any reason to restrain myself. But those girls... were nothing like my sisters. My mother grew up among nobility. But my father... it was _his _influence more than anything else. Had them both afraid of intimacy beyond kissing. Probably why my sister got so good at flirting. It's all she was allowed."

Sebastian cleared his throat loudly, finally adding to the conversation. "I doubt that anyone here is in any position to judge one way or the other. I think it would be best if we respect Hawke's privacy and speak of other things."

Having successfully killed the mood, Carver lurched from his chair and began a slow walk to the exit. Gamlen's sorry excuse for a house was only a few blocks up, so it never occurred to any of them to help the well-muscled lad find his way home.

Varric thumbed through the deck of cards in his hands, noticing that each man at the table now seemed to be more occupied with their own thoughts than with the game. This bunch was far too broody for such serious conversation. Never one to squander the opportunity to quit while he was ahead, Varric pulled his pile of winnings across the scarred table and toward his broad chest. "Bianca and I are going to call it a night." A wicked grin split his face as he added, "Sweet dreams."

Varric stretched as he entered his room, closing and locking his door behind him. It was food for thought, at least. But the Hawke of his tales was going to be a varitable whore. It just sounded better.


	3. Just Once

_A/N: I've set myself the rather ambitious goal of updating this daily. Let's see how far I can get.  
><em>_A big thanks to those of you that have read and subscribed to my ramblings. You help keep me sane. Comments are love. :3_

_Description: Sappy drawn out first kiss._

_Warnings: Sensuality._

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><p><strong>Just Once<strong>

This thing between them had stretched taunt until even the slightest contact seemed intimate beyond bearing. The brush of his hand against her skin when he smoothed the hair back from her brow, even the way that his arm would rub against hers when they walked together excited Hawke beyond the full-blown embraces she'd shared with other men.

She liked to sit and just listen to him talk. His voice did something to her insides, along with his expressive face and his passion for nearly everything life had to offer. Sometimes, when he sat beside her, he'd be close enough that his thigh would press the side of hers, making her burn.

The fatherly kisses he placed on her forehead were driving her mad.

Hawke had told herself that she could accept any limitations he's placed on their relationship. Knowing that he cared for her was enough. But she was a healthy young woman. And as her feelings for the man grew, so did her desire.

* * *

><p>He'd come by to help her organize her books. Mother had discovered crates of old texts down in the cellar and had had them sent up without preamble. The lot was worth a small fortune, many were dusty and very very old.<p>

They spoke in hushed whispers as she sorted through the titles, alphabetizing them by author. Two hours into the task, she discovered that Sebastian had been sorting by category and with a frustrated sigh, she set a stack of tomes aside.

"I'll never have the time to read even a small fraction of these, you realize," she said, using the inside of her forearm to push some stray hair out of her face.

"Still, it will be nice to have such a collection. My family home was lined in books." He sounded wistful, as he often did when he spoke of such things.

His eyes were an unfeasible shade of blue, and looking into them she felt something in her chest give a squeeze.

Smiling, his hand came up, swiping against the tip of her nose. His fingers came away, and she could see that he'd found some dust there. She wanted to laugh, but suddenly, she couldn't think of anything to say.

Under the weight of his heavy stare, Hawke felt her senses swim. She stepped closer, until they nearly touched, and without thinking, she spoke, "Have you ever wondered if it would be alright if we kissed just once?" Her voice remained just a whisper. "Maybe it would get it out of our systems..."

His smile didn't quite reach his eyes this time. "I have a feeling it would only make things harder if that happened." He seemed to realize his own unfortunate choice of words at the same time she did. His eyes widened and he swallowed audibly. "Hawke..,"

"Isabela says I'm better off inexperienced," she rushed on, continuing to lean into him. "She says that once you've done... certain things, that you only want to more. Is it difficult for you?"

His lips parted, but before he could speak, probably to say something along the lines of "Isabela says too much," she continued, "Because it's difficult for me."

Her breath feathered across his lips as she stood on her toes, tilting her chin toward him. The ring of blue in his eyes shrank as his pupils dilated. His hands closed over her upper arms as if he meant to push her away. Instead, he gripped her hard, his breath leaving him on a ragged sigh as her lips finally touched his. He bent his head to brush a soft, sweet kiss across her mouth. He made a strangled noise in his throat before he settled into her.

He smelled amazing, of spices and the outdoors. The touch of his mouth had a strange effect on her. She felt almost dizzy, and her hands slid automatically from his arms to his shoulders to steady herself. The feel of his lips, firm and warm against hers, and the steel strength of his shoulders under her palms sent a quiver of sensation through her. She drew a breath, more of a little gasp; Sebastian had already begun to draw back when he felt the faint flutter of her lips under his. Hawke felt him begin to pull away, felt the moment when he stopped, standing like a statue for an instant, his eyes darkening as they locked with hers. Then his breath drew in sharply, much as hers had done but louder, fiercer; his eyes closed and he bent over her again, his mouth on hers, but harder this time, and hotter.

She had never thought it would feel like this. That was Hawke's last thought as his arms tightened around her, drawing her up against him until they were pressed so tightly together that it seemed as though the heat of him must fuse them into one. His mouth was moving against hers, his tongue moist and urgent as it slid between her still-parted lips. It stopped at the barrier of her small white teeth, tasting the inner flesh of her lower lip before drawing it into his mouth and nibbling on it in a way that was part pleasure, part pain. Hawke opened her mouth on a gasp, and his tongue slid passed her teeth to explore the sweetness within. She felt her knees weaken as the world seemed to revolve around her, and her hands crept around his neck for support, fingers tangling into the hair at the nape of his neck.

His tongue touched hers, stroked it, coaxed it. Hawke returned the caress, feeling the sudden thud of his heart against her breasts. He drew her tongue into his mouth, letting her taste him. She was barely conscious of his arms moving around her, so caught up was she in the unbelievable sensations his mouth was awakening in her. But when his hand slid down to her hips, he pressed his pelvis against her, and she felt it like a shaft of fire clear down to her toes. She could feel the hardest part of him pressed against her though their clothes. She felt an answering tightness deep in her belly, a quick heating of her blood that made her feel as if she were burning up.

He ended it. No sooner had Hawke relaxed fully against him, surrendering herself without words to anything he might demand of her, than he jerked his mouth from hers. His arms tightened momentarily around her, and then they too were removed, leaving Hawke feeling bereft as she opened her eyes to find him looking down at her, a restless glitter deep in his eyes.

"Sebastian?" she breathed, unconsciously clinging. His eyes blazed as they moved from her eyes to her mouth, and then he was setting her gently away from him, his hands soft on her waist as he held her at arm's length.

"We have to stop," he said. A little muscle jumped convulsively in his jaw.

"Well... that got out of hand." Her attempt at making light of the situation fell flat as worries began to crowd her mind.

She was scared. He'd tell the Grand Cleric, and she'd advise Sebastian to stop seeing her.

Her worries must have shown on her face, because he lifted her chin, forcing her to meet his eyes with calloused fingers. "It's alright," he said softly. "Perhaps now you'll see that it's better if we just... behave ourselves." Taking her hands into his, he gave them a squeeze.

Isabela had been right. Now it was only going to be worse.


	4. Firsts

_A/N: I know as I type this that this is just... I don't even..._

_Description: Silly ridiculous silliness. And water._

_Warnings: Uncalled for swimming, mild sensuality, and Fenris fascination._

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><p><strong>Firsts<strong>

Hawke pulled off her boots and stockings, watching as Brutus surged into the surf ahead of them.

The plan was simple: just a quick dip into the waters of the Waking Sea.

The idea had been brewing since the day they'd arrived here at the Wounded Coast and Sebastian had declared that it was the very first time he'd seen the ocean. It had been so oppressively hot for so long. Snow and drawn out cold season aside, summers in Ferelden were generally mild, and Hawke was still trying to adjust.

Fenris and Isabela helped round out their little group. Hawke found herself taking the white haired elf nearly everywhere lately. His skills as a warrior were invaluable when they ran into trouble, and for whatever reason, Hawke found that having him around helped dull the pain of Carver's absence. They didn't exactly see eye to eye, but he was still very charming despite their differences.

And Isabela; Hawke would like to think that the woman's close combat tactics were the main reason why she was here, but in all honesty, Isabela just made everything more fun. She'd grown very close to the worldy woman over the years, and she knew that beneath her carefree exterior lay a surprising amount of wisdom and a wealth of life experience.

Hawke's eyes widened a bit as Fenris pulled his chestpiece over his head, leaving him surprisingly bare underneath. She had to force herself to look away from his chest; for all that his markings bothered him, Hawke found them beautiful and she noted with no small amount of fascination that they spread down his sides and across the very top of his pectorals.

Isabela shucked down to her small clothes, and Hawke was mildly surprised to see the dusky skinned woman's breast binding. To see her fully clothed, you'd never know she wore such a thing. Although, what Isabela normally wore probably would have covered less than Hawke's current ensemble.

Hawke was now wearing only a thin tunic over her smalls. Good thing her robes consisted of so many layers.

Sebastian took longer than anyone to remove his armor, and watching him undress was a slow tease. He had the unabashed confidence of most men, efficiently stripping down to his trousers without care. Hawke felt her breath hitch as she got her very first look at his muscular upper body.

He even had attractive feet.

And of course, he could swim like a fish. They all could.

Hawke waded out, letting the water come up to her knees. She hesitated, wrapping her bare arms around herself. Her eyes swung from Fenris, whose smooth backstroke was currently being interrupted by Isabela's splashing, to Brutus, who paddled about in circles, his tongue lolling happily out of his mouth.

Sebastian gave a sound of pleasure as he began floating on his back. "Maker, it's been hot. This feels incredible." Noticing that she had yet to join them in the water, he moved upright, treading water. "What's the matter?"

She moved in a few steps, stopping when she was submerged to her chest. Her cheeks burned as she muttered, "I... I can't swim."

"Really?" he asked, moving closer.

"Yes," she answered sharply, feeling incredibly embarrassed. Softening her tone, she explained, "We lived inland. There was Lake Calenhad, but nobody swims there."

"Here," taking her hand, he slowly led her out with him, deeper and deeper until she could no longer touch bottom.

One hand clung to his and with the other arm she tried desperately to emulate Sebastian's strong stroke.

It had seemed like such a good idea. Now Hawke berated herself as a fool. It was terrifying. "What if there's something swimming in the water with us? Maker! Who knows what matter of evil snakes or toothy fishes reside in here!"

Starting to panic, Hawke's head bobbed below the surface. If there were dangerous things in these waters, thrashing about was probably the worst course of action, but she couldn't seem to help herself.

"Hawke," Sebastian turned her into his chest, pulling her up against him. "Shh. Don't be afraid."

A rush of goosebumps covered her flest. She could feel his body, his skin slick and warm, and the beat of his heart through his chest. Below, she could feel every inch of him through their wet clothing.

And suddenly the world was perfect.

He held her, making her feel safe. When she'd relaxed enough, he started to swim, pulling her smoothly through the water with him.

The hours seemed to pass with incredible swiftness. At one point, she heard Isabela laugh, and glancing over, Hawke saw that the other woman must have slapped a veritable wave of ocean over poor Fenris. His hair was drenched, clinging to his skull in a soaking white mass. His black brows met over narrowed eyes, and placing a hand on the top of Isabela's head, he pushed her under.

Isabela's screeching and laughter faded, and all Hawke could hear was the sound of the waves, and Sebastian's soft voice. Now that it wasn't quite as scary, the water felt lovely, relaxing her muscles until her eyes drifted closed.

She never wanted the day to end.

But eventually, reality intruded: they'd lingered long enough. Her skin was pruney and she was probably sunburned. Heading back toward land, she felt the first happy stretches of sand meet her toes. She could touch soon. Sebastian held her elbow until the reached the shore, his tender smile lighting up his entire face.

"We'll have to drip-dry," Isabela said, flashing a toothy grin. Hawke hadn't even noticed the others join them. They stood on the shore dripping water with chattering teeth. Brutus gave a great shake, managing to hit them all with castoff dog drippings, and they groaned in unison.

"Next time, that dog stays behind," Fenris griped.

They needed to do this more often.

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><p><em>AN: Um... I think I'll offset this one by posting some angst next. Or smut. Or angst-smut. I don't know. I'll probably be doing more writing and less posting on weekends. Hope you all have a wonderful one! -J_


	5. Emulous

_A/N: I went with my buddy Tatooine92's advice and went with a wee bit of angst on this one (over the smut, which is planned, don't worry, just not yet). I'm actually writing another angsty piece simultaniously, which should be posted here in the next day or so.__ Anyhow, this is set before things go to hell in Act 2. _

_Description: Sebastian and Hawke get a night out. Too bad things can't be perfect._

_Warnings: Agitated Sebastian is agitated. And a lot more introspection than I usually feel comfortable with._

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><p><strong>Emulous<strong>

Hawke groaned in frustration as she searched among her dresses for something suitable. All she seemed to own were battle ready garments with more thought to comfort and protection than style. Knowing the futility of finding anything here, she crossed the hall to mother's room, throwing the door wide in agitation.

She cursed herself for not having a dress made and resolved to do just that once this whole ordeal was over with. Mother's dresses were all the height of fashion, expensive fabrics with threaded embellishments, cut just this side of scandalous. It was strange to think of how mother had dressed when they'd arrived here from Ferelden. But shopping and fittings made her mother happy, and cost aside, that was what mattered.

She missed Carver. She hoped he was doing okay. Now there was someone who'd hated dressing up even more than she did. Memories of him seemed to catch up with her at the most inconvienint of times. With a wistful smile, she remembered the last time they'd had to dress fancy, for a villiage wedding. He'd huffed that aside from the bride and groom, everyone else should be immune to the ridicule of the judgemental stares of the gathered masses, who only played at well wishes of happiness and prosperity. Ah, Carver. His cynical viewpoint often helped keep things in perspective. He'd always been able to make her laugh without trying. There didn't seem to be that many laughs these days.

Hawke had a thing for purple. Quashing the girlish sentiment, she determinedly reached for a gown of deep red fabric. She couldn't recall seeing this one before, and decided that it was just one of many that her mother hadn't worn yet.

Moving back to her own chamber, Hawke carefully dressed, trying not to rip the garment while she struggled with ties and buttons. Mother would probably be out later than Hawke herself, having fallen into the habit of returning and rising very late from dinner parties and gatherings of her own.

Hawke didn't mind. Their conflicting schedules allotted them both privacy, something that Hawke, in particular, required, as dear to her as her mother was. She always made sure to be here in time for family supper on Sundays, but that aside, days could pass without them seeing each other, what with Hawke being so busy.

Mother was a dedicated Andrastean, but Hawke rarely saw the inside of the Chantry for anything other than business reasons and more recently, times when she sought Sebastian. Old habits died hard, and the Chantry in Loathering had always been up to its eyeballs in templars. Consequently, she and Bethany had never been as devout as they could have been. Carver usually attended to keep mother from going alone, but Hawke suspected he'd spent the majority of his time within the hallowed halls looking over the village maids.

Father had often used the time to help her and her sister learn to use their magic. Small spells, like lighting the fire, sometimes moving small objects in their home. Mother would have had a fit, had she known, Hawke reflected with a bittersweet smile.

Shaking the cobwebs from her thoughts, she moved to her doorway, and called Orana. The shy elven woman could do amazing things with Hawke's unruly hair.

Now that the Arishok was doing things like asking for Hawke by name, she'd gained the Viscount's notice enough that's he'd call on her for occasional favors. Having friends in such high places was always a good idea, seeing as her money and position were all that were currently keeping the templars at bay. She'd met the Viscount's son, Saemus more than three years back when she'd interveaned on his behalf during the confrontation with the Winters. Following a bloody and rather drawn out battle, she'd returned with him to the Viscount and been all but thrown out by the Seneschal after speaking on Saemus's behalf. No doubt it was the younger Dumar that had requested she be granted the gilded invitation that currently graced her writing desk.

She'd already decided that she would go. She was going. After all, how often was someone of her station invited to the birthday gala of the soul heir to Kirkwall's throne? Still, Hawke couldn't help but feel a bit like a peasant intent on crashing the party of royalty.

Orana had her hair immaculately sculpted, bringing her some much needed confidence, and she was able to declare herself ready just in time to hear Bodahn usher in her escort for the evening. Sebastian stepped inside the living room, shrugging off his overcoat. Rushing down the stairs, she and Sebastian got their first good look at each other.

When she'd asked him to accompany her to this function, she'd known he'd shine up nicely. Putting aside his vow of poverty seemed to have served him well, for he looked every inch the Prince this evening. The suit he was wearing had no business being on anyone but him. At first glimpse, it appeared to be black, but as Hawke moved closer she saw it was actually a deep, dark green, a perfect foil for his auburn hair and startling eyes.

"That suit... it's perfect."

His hair was smoothed back as usual and damp. Hawke forced her thoughts away from visions of him bathing, hair dripping water down strong naked shoulders.

His eyes wandered from her elaborately styled hair to the tip if her slippered toes. "It's military formal wear, from Starkhaven." He paused, taking one of her hands, which was ungloved for this rare occasion. "Hawke... you look incredible." She shouldn't have felt so much pleasure at his compliment. She loved her armor, her functional robes, and sturdy, furlined boots. But a smile split her face, and warmth spread through her. Maybe this dressing up business did have its benefits after all.

Placing her arm in his, Sebastian lead her out the front door and into the quiet streets of Hightown.

The evening air had a crisp bite to it that was nice. Breathing it in, she prepared herself for the evening ahead. She would much rather face a room full of angry darkspawn, than the highnosed people she knew awaited them.

She wished she could get away with wearing boots. The ridiculous heals made her feel unbalanced. Having the handsome archer at her side was going to make all the difference, she decided.

They arrived fashionably on time and were announced as Serah Hawke, of the Amell family, and Sebastian Vael of Starkhaven, respectively. She handed the gift she'd brought off to a footman, a carefully selected bejeweled dagger, with a card to lay claim to the gift's benefactor. Most of the people here Hawke had never seen in her life. She shook the hands of too many people to keep track of, and recieved a few dissapproving sniffs from faceless people as she passed. She was relatively new to Hightown, and although the Amell name was an old and respected one, "Hawke" was still very foreign. Her raven hair probably didn't help matters, as she knew that like her siblings, she resembled her father's family more than anything else.

They made their way to the reception line and waited to greet Dumar himself. She felt Sebastian's eyes on her and looking up, felt his smile pull her mouth into one of its own.

"You really do look beautiful," he said, low enough that only she could hear.

"And uncomfortable?" she asked, matching his tone. Her pleasent smile belied the way she felt just being here.

"You're uncomfortable? I had no idea," he teased.

Pulling his arm tighter against her side, she gave his hand a squeeze. "Let's just do what we must then _leave_. We can sip wine and talk politics back at my place."

Sebastian looked right at home, shaking hands with the nobles here. It was kind of exciting, if not in the same way that discovering your path was blocked by giant spiders was exciting, but still very foreign to her. Carver had always affectionately dubbed them as "two nobodies", and as fun as it might be to pretend for a few sparse moments, she knew that being in a crowd such as this was going to take some getting used to.

Their turn finally arrived, and after passing over the Viscount with a hastily shaken hand and a very brief, "Your excellency," she smiled at Saemus. He looked older in his fine black suit, if bored, until his eyes met hers. "Ah, Serah Hawke. A pleasure." He took her hand and brushed his lips across the back of her knuckles.

"This is Sebastian Vael, heir to the Prince's seat in Starkhaven," she introduced.

The two men firmly shook hands. "I've heard of you. Best of luck with your situation; I'm sure my father will help as much as he can." Turning back to Hawke, he smiled. "I'm happy to see you here. I was almost afraid you wouldn't come." He looked from the seemingly unending line of people intent on greeting him back to Hawke, and recaptured her hand. "Would you care to dance? This looks like just the excuse I need to take a break from all this."

Seeing no way to refuse, Hawke allowed Saemus to take her arm from Sebastian and lead her away, amidst the Viscount's disapproving glare. Be it over Saemus's interest in her or his hasty exit, she couldn't say.

He danced automatically, while Hawke felt like she needed to mind every step. "I'm glad you'll be working with my father. He needs the viewpoint of someone like you. He's often so very unwilling to see things any way but his own." A look of determination entered his eyes. "It won't be long before he abdicates the Viscount seat to me. I think he would have done so by now if we didn't disagree on so many things."

"Hmm," Hawke said, hardly interested. She wondered if Sebastian was going to dance with someone else. Curbing her impatience, she tried to focus on Saemus. He was, after all, the reason she was here. He was attractive, with piercing eyes, but his hairstyle distracted from the overall picture; he had the most ridiculous hair that Hawke had ever seen. It stuck up at will all over his head, making him look boyish and far younger than he was. "So, birthdays, huh? They always seem to get worse as the years go by. Make you take stock of what you've accomplished and that isn't any fun for anybody."

He laughed a little, just as she'd intendent him to, but then his tone became serious. "As you say. As far as what I've accomplished... It's becoming obvious that father expects certain things of me." His eyes became intense as he looked at her. "I'll need to take a wife soon."

Thank the Maker, but at that moment, the current tune the minstrels were playing came to an end. "It was lovely seeing you again, Saemus. I should probably go find Sebastian now." Disengaging her arms from his, she stepped away from him and added, "I hope you have a wonderful birthday. Excuse me." Moving away, she scanned the room, looking for Sebastian's strong shoulders among the sea of bodies. The crowd looked to have doubled in size since they'd arrived.

"My turn." His breath brushed her ear, tickling her with his soft brogue before she even had the chance to spot him. He'd come up behind her, and before she could feel relief or surprise, he swept her into the next dance.

Up close, she could feel how rigid his body was. "Did something happen? You seem agitated." As good as it felt to be in his arms, his carefree attitude was gone. She had enough experience with brooding men to know when something was wrong.

"Agitated? Aye, you could say that." His mouth set into a firm line as he seemed to look everywhere but at her. "The nobles here care nothing beyond their own interests. For all Dumar's concern regarding the Qunari, he's in no hurry to make a move to do anything about it. Until this is resolved, I can't look to any of these people for aid." He stopped, and his eyes met hers. This was nothing new so it couldn't explain his current unrest. Then he added, "And the one man here who might support my cause won't take his eyes off of you long enough to listen."

Sighing, Hawke felt her head begin to ache. "Do you want to leave?"

Without answering, he took her elbow and headed for the exit.

"Maybe we should say our farewells to Saemus before we go..."

He cut her off. "Believe me, he'll know that you've left."

They stepped outside and Sebastian dropped her arm. He ran unsteady hands through his hair. "I don't care if he looks like he's twelve. I don't like how he stares at you." He sighed heavily as they began to walk toward her house. "Everyone we meet seems to want something from you. And I never say anything about it. Anders looks at you like you're something to eat. Even Fenris... It makes me sick when I think about it."

Looking at him in the darkness, she could just make out his face. He looked so unhappy. "Sebastian. Saemus is harmless. I like him because he's young and idealistic. Something that seems to be rare among people with his kind of power. I'm sure he'll mellow with age, but he'll be good for Kirkwall.

"But he's not... surely you don't think..." She stopped walking, forcing him stop, too. She tried to catch his hand. "Maybe we should tell people. That we're together, I mean. I know that things are still up in the air, about Starkhaven, the Chantry, and I'm fine with that. But there must be some way. To explain to people..."

His hand came up, and he brushed her cheek, craddled it. "I should think it's obvious. Can't everyone see how much I care for you?"

She leaned into his hand. Drawing a deep breath, she felt a tightening in her chest. Sometimes she wished she could skip ahead, and have everything in the city settled. She would support Sebastian, no matter what he decided. She just hoped that there would be a place for them.

"Hawke, I'm sorry. I hope I haven't ruined the evening for you."

Smiling sadly, she squeezed his arm. "I'll take whatever I can get with you. Never doubt that."


	6. Comfort

_A/N: At least three more of these to go after this one. I'll keep writing them as long as Sebastian keeps making my muse his plaything. Oh, and that angst of which I spoke of last chapter? This isn't it yet. ;)_

_Description: Sometimes it's good to have things in common. Even bad things._

_Warnings: Sad reflections, sensuality and more UST - THEY'LL GET TO IT SOON. I promise._

* * *

><p><strong>Comfort<strong>

"Tell me about your brothers," Hawke asked softly, lacing her fingers between his. She loved their differences, his skin was darker, calloused, and her hand looked very small beside his.

She'd had a sofa placed before the fireplace in the study. It wasn't the most lavish piece of furniture; it was more wood than padding, but it was sturdy, and it had quickly become her favorite place to read, relax, or cuddle up with Sebastian after a long day of righting wrongs.

His chin rested against the outer slope of her forehead, his breath stirring her hair as he spoke. "Alec was the oldest. A more skilled swordsman I've never met." Blowing his breath out on a laugh, he continued, "He was good at pretty much anything he tried a hand in. And the arrogant clod knew it."

His fingers curled, giving her hand a squeeze. "William was less than a year older than me. We were pretty close growing up. The day my family sent me here, I knew he'd be the person I missed the most." His eyes took on a sad, far away look. "He was a real show off, loved attention. He was always trying to make us laugh.

"We'd fish in the Minanter, or swim on days that it wasn't so rough. Sometimes we'd make little boats and see whose could make it the farthest."

Hawke tried to imagine Sebastian as a boy, trailing after his brothers, the lot of them bedraggled and dirty. "They sound wonderful."

Laughing, he said, "Oh, they weren't always, believe me."

Turning toward him, Hawke propped her chin on a fist, leaning into him so she could see his eyes.

"You're thinking of Carver," he said softly. He'd only gotten a brief impression of the sullen young man the first time he'd met Hawke, years before, while he'd been tracking the lead that had eventually taken him to the front doors of the Harimann Estate. Hawke spoke of him only a little, and when she did, her words were colored with pain and regret.

"I just wish..," She stopped, then started again, her voice stronger this time. "I'm the one who was supposed to look out for him. I'd thought about the danger, about telling him he needed to stay here and watch over mother, but he was so adament. I was afraid that if I'd left him, he'd never forgive me." She stopped for a moment, and took a deep breath. "Sometimes I feel like I lost a part of myself down there." It was nice to know that Sebastian wasn't soothing her just to be agreeable. He understood just how she felt during those horrible days following the Deep Roads, he _knew_ how it felt to lose your family one by one.

"And Bethany. Carver lives. But losing him was like losing Bethany all over again. It opened old wounds, made them fresh."

She hadn't been able to share this with any one. She couldn't talk to mother about it, so she'd kept it to herself. Having someone who understood meant everything to her.

She felt his hand sweep up her back, a slow, comforting gesture. Rubbing her nose against his cheek, she thought back to when she'd first let him walk her home. He'd charmed mother, with compliments about his parents and their lofty opinion of the Amells, and even Brutus had liked him right away. He'd been so proper, grateful for the help she'd given him, vulnerable to his own insecurities regarding his duty to Starkhaven warring with the desire he'd had for the Princes's seat when he'd been young and selfish. Neither of them were perfect. And maybe they didn't need to be.

The heaviness in her chest began to ease. He was close, so close that all she had to do was move her mouth just the tiniest fraction and she'd be kissing him. She'd been trying to respect his wishes; if he wanted to put his vows aside, she wanted him to come to that on his own. But having him here, being with him like this, it had probably been a mistake from the start.

Moving her body against his more fully, she brushed his lips with hers, softly, hesitant. His arms tightened around her as she repeated the caress a second, then a third time. Then he was kissing her, with a soft intensity that left her dazed. She pressed her body to his as her mouth trembled against him. When she felt his tongue stroke over her lips, then slide gently between them to run over the smooth surface of her teeth, her breath stopped. She opened to him, and his tongue slid inside her mouth to claim its sweetness.

He withdrew to nuzzle against the side of her face, trailing his way over her cheek to her neck and back up again to her mouth. Hawke clung to handfulls of his hair, feeling hot and breathless as she allowed him to kiss her as he would. He pulled her tighter against him, so that her breasts were pressed hard against his chest. Moving his hands down past her waist, he gripped her bottom, lifting his hips off the sofa and pushing the hard, pulsing part of him into her belly.

Hawke broke away from his mouth with a gasp. Looking down at him, she saw him watching her through narrowed lids.

Giving her a final squeeze he sat up, bringing her with him. "I should probably go," he murmured against her hair as he kissed the side of her head.

Groaning in frustration, she hugged him tightly, briefly, before letting him leave the couch. "You're going to kill me, I swear," she grumbled, straightening her clothes.

Smiling at her, he leaned down and brushed a kiss across her brow. She let her eyes close as she leaned into his lips.

He straightened, and then he was gone, leaving Hawke alone as he stepped out into the night.

He needed some air. And a really cold bath.


	7. Desire

_A/N: Almost ready to post something a bit darker. Thought I'd bring the smut first. You know me (or maybe you don't); it can't all be sunshine and fluffiness for ever._

_Description: Sebastian makes up his mind... Sort of._

_Warnings: SMUT. Sensuality and sexual content._

* * *

><p><strong>Desire<strong>

He'd been fighting it for too long. He didn't care that he might have regrets later. Didn't care how they'd gotten here, or why he'd chosen to let this happen in his tiny room in the Chantry, in the uncomfortable bed that had never been meant for two.

All that mattered was that she was here, and he'd made up his mind.

A single tallow candle lit up the darkness, throwing shadows around the room. He wanted to see her, couldn't undress her fast enough. Impatience warred with his need to savor this.

He cupped her face, letting his fingers slide beneath her soft black hair, giving her deep, hungry kisses. The sounds she made set his blood on fire as he moved to the buckles on her armor. With sure, steady hands, he removed her garments, seeing every inch of her pale skin at long last. Using his dagger, he slit the ties on her breast binding, tasting the gasp she made. His lips found her throat, grazing her with his teeth as he dragged lips and tongue down the slope to her shoulder. She was restless against him, pulling at his clothes until he ducked his head to help her remove his shirt. His armor and boots lay in a discarded pile, his jerkin cast aside after she'd rubbed the soft lining against her nose.

Her hands were as eager as his, running across his chest, down his belly, then back up to smooth over his shoulders.

Her breasts were full and beautiful and he bit at the rosy tips, making her whimper and moan. Her skin felt like silk on his fingers as he ran them everywhere, feeling her battle scars and setting them both on fire. He needed to know every inch of her.

She found him, where he was hard and on fire for her. His body flinched, a great, nerve-jolting shock. It was happening too fast, and not fast enough. His hands found her hips, curled around to caress her bottom, sliding up her thighs until he could just brush against the most intimate parts of her. She wriggled in his hold, a devastating little squirm.

She was clutching at him now, her hands squeezing him until he ached and his belly tightened. He wanted to press her hand harder against him; he wanted to pull her hand away.

He wanted this to be perfect for her, wanted to be sure she was ready. He slid a hand down through the curls guarding her entrance, feeling the desire build inside him. He could smell her, and it was driving him crazy. He cupped her, his fingers carefully exploring all of her secrets. Sliding a single strong finger inside, she burned him. Her knees fell open in welcome. He used everything his lovers had taught him, when to push, when to tease. Her hips canted forward, feeding his impatience. He wanted to slide down her body, to taste her, to love her, but no, that could wait. He needed her now, needed to join with her and finally make her his.

Moving between her legs, he slid himself against her, savoring the moment. He couldn't wait. He pushed against her, letting just the tip of himself enter, and it was perfect. Baring down, he slid further inside, and met with just the slightest resistance. He remembered that she'd never done this before, and it made him hold her tighter. She hadn't taken much of him, not even half. A distance remained between their hips. Clutching her shoulders, he held her against him. He was probably crushing her with his weight, but he didn't care, couldn't care as he fought to get deeper.

She'd asked for this. She wanted it as much as he did.

He whispered to her, soothing things, he didn't know what he was saying. All he could do was feel as his hands gripped the bed. He tried desperately to gain the leverage he needed to work his way in to the hilt.

Her knees rose, squeezed the ribs beneath his arms. Back and forth they rocked until her body eased and took him, until his thighs tightened to penetrate the final inch. She sighed when his hips pressed hers.

He stopped and held inside her, his body shaking with desire. She kissed the ball of his shoulder. With a mutual groan they moved in tandem, strongly, smoothly. He felt Hawke's nails break the surface of his skin. Sebastian grunted and gripped the side of the mattress to lever deeper, to thrust with greater force.

She was small, snug, and hot, and he moved in quick hard jabs to keep from ending it all too quickly. He pounded into her, her flesh tightening around him, his pleasure rising. She squeezed his hips with her thighs. He slid one big hand beneath her hips, his fingers spread from the small of her back across her bottom.

He whispered of his pleasure: hot, forbidden words that made her tighten deep inside. He was on fire, he said. He murmured praise to her beautiful body. He told her how hard he was, how badly he ached. He urged her to move with him then hissed through his teeth when she obeyed.

"Don't rush," he pleaded when he felt her body grow impatient. "We'll only have one first time."

She grabbed the side of the bed to keep from sliding, and even with this, he'd soon thrust her up against the head board.

"Hold on," he said, bracing his arm on the polished wood. "Hold on, sweetheart." He felt her begin to tense against him, so he let his body go, slamming into her as the sensations built on top of each other. He'd waited too long for this. His body shuddered as he reached for his peak.

It built and built until he felt himself explode, and it washed over him, making him tingle from head to toe. He clutched her to him, his fingers biting hard into the soft flesh around her hips.

* * *

><p>Gasping for breath, Sebastian sat up, eyes flying open as his dream slipped away.<p>

Rolling onto his belly, he buried his face in his pillow. After his breathing returned to normal, he got up, shaking his head in frustration.

He needed to pray. He'd probably wear holes in his knees for that one.

* * *

><p><em>AN: I didn't want to make this a dream sequence (because that's _been _done). But I can't deny that in-game Sebastian doesn't give it up - hopefully, because BioWare has some kind of plan for him. I've tried to have this actually happen (in my fic), but it just isn't the time, yet. As far as the smut goes: I've tried to keep it from getting too offensive, and may end up editing it a bit later on. Feedback is much appreciated (that way I know what works and what doesn't)._


	8. Anger

_A/N: And... the honeymoon is over. It occurs to me that so far, the Hawke I've written could be construed as sweet and naive. THAT IS NOT HOW I WANT IT. I'd like this to be a transitional piece into my tougher, more in-character Hawke. This is during Act 2. 'All That Remains' has come and gone, so Hawke isn't really in the best headspace._

_Description: Confrontation after the 'Night Terrors' quest._

_Warnings: Angst, verbal fighting, and more angst. And one curse word._

* * *

><p><strong>Anger<strong>

He was sitting on the bench in the entryway when she arrived home, his knees bouncing with the tension of waiting. His eyes scanned her, head to toe, as she entered, perhaps looking for some subtle change.

Mouth firming into a thin line, Hawke made to step past him but was drawn up short as he stood and clamped a hand on her upper arm. She looked down at his hard, grasping fingers. "Let go of me." She wanted to sound calm, but she realized she'd spoken through her teeth.

Brows raising, his fingers clenched, biting harder into the soft flesh on the inside of her arm. "What happened?" he asked, the concern clear in his eyes.

Sighing, Hawke pulled at her arm. "Why are you here, Sebastian?" She waited for an answer, anger filling her throat like bile. She gripped the staff in her free hand until the knuckles turned white.

"I wanted to be here when you returned. Make sure you were safe."

She gave up the fight for her arm, turning to face him. "Make sure I was _safe_? Are you kidding me? If you'd cared that I was _safe_, you would have come with me, wouldn't have you?"

He started to speak, and she wrenched away, dropping her staff to the floor with a clatter. "You know what? It sucked. Merrill and Isabela both turned on me and Anders was just weird the entire time. It was like being left alone with a stranger. But I didn't get possessed, so thanks for asking."

She was probably just taking it all out on him. She didn't care. She was tired of putting everyone else's feelings before her own.

Shaking his head, he spoke again, his voice sounding reasonable, as usual. "I shouldn't have to tell you how dangerous that was. You involve yourself in every little problem, which is noble, but unwise. There are times when what people ask of you is just too much. You need to decide when to say 'no'."

"And that is _my _decision to make. Not yours. When I decide that I'm going to do something, you're either with me, or you're not." Shaking her head, she allowed herself to calm a little. "Everyone else accepts that we can't agree on everything. Why can't you?"

Dropping to the bench, she rubbed at her temples with trembling fingers. "When I asked you why you were here, I meant why are you _here_? With me? Don't you have your own shit to deal with?" she swore on purpose, hoping she'd shock him. "In Starkhaven or the Chantry or whichever Sebastian you've decided to be today?"

She wasn't being fair and she knew it. She'd made him angry now, and it felt good, it felt way better than it should. "I just don't see, until your life is figured out, how you can want me in it."

"How can you say that?" he asked. "You mean everything to me, Hawke. But I am a man of faith. You cannot ask something from me that isn't mine to give."

Realization hit her with the force of a brick. "You're a good man. With some hard choices to make." She realized what she was going to say right as she spoke the words. "You've made it clear how you feel about the mages here in the city. I want you to try to take into account that I'm one of them." She was a strong, independent woman. It was high time she remembered that. "I'm a mage. It's just something you're going to have to deal with. If you can."

They'd never end up together. She'd told herself she'd take what she could, but sometimes it wasn't enough. "I don't think we should see each other any more. Beyond professionally. It will make some... upcoming decisions a lot easier on me."

She finally saw it, the anger in his eyes. Their blue blazed like flame. Reaching down to where she sat, he pulled her up and against him. His mouth slanted over hers in a devastating kiss. He was warm and intense, and for just a moment, it was wonderful. Resisting the need to melt against him, Hawke pushed him away. "Don't!" She yelled at him, panting. Sadly, she realized that this was the first time he'd ever instigated anything physical between them. "I mean it," she said firmly, tilting her shoulder toward the door. It would be better if he didn't come around here any more. She'd miss him, at first, but with time, she'd feel stronger.

He shook his head again, sighing. "Very well, Hawke. I shall respect your wishes." Taking a few steps away, he paused. "I'll always be here for you. Come to the Chantry if you need me."

Her eyes squeezed shut. She wished she could believe he'd always be there. Part of her wanted him to fight her, wanted him to rage and insist that she was making a mistake. But he was too much of a gentleman. And that broke her heart more than anything else.

She watched his back as he left, opening and closing the door carefully behind him. Her shoulders slumped, and suddenly she felt very old and very tired. Walking to latch the door, she let her head drop to rest against the wood with a thunk. She didn't feel pain anymore. She didn't feel anything.


	9. Regret

_A/N: This business of writing and posting every day is starting to take its toll on me. I think a wee bit of time away would do us all some good, and allow my muse some freedom to develop for a bit. I could mark this complete, as I've been telling myself I would following this piece, but I'd like to optimistically state that I will be adding to it as I pen more Sebastian-y oneshots, particularly when we find out what Jennifer Hepler meant when she told us "Sebastian's story is not finished yet. Don't worry."  
><em>_Time will tell whether I look back upon this exercise and feel proud of myself, or decide that the rush has made it terrible, and want to delete the whole thing. Thank you to everyone who's read along with me, and an extra special hug for all of you who have been nice enough to leave feedback. I appreciate it more than I can say.  
><em>_  
>Description: Forgiveness and a fresh start.<em>

_Warnings: Angst. And heavily implied FemHawke/Fenris._

* * *

><p><strong>Regret<strong>

Life went on. Since none of the others had really been aware of how close the two of them had been, they were spared the awkwardness of well meaning comments and curious inquiries. It certainly made the transition easier for Hawke.

Sebastian spent less time out with the rest of them as a group, unless he was called upon, in which case he was as reliable as ever. Time passed, and he became more determined to take back his lands. He spent more and more of his time at the Viscount's Keep and less in the hallowed halls of the Chantry.

The loneliness didn't dull with time. Hawke felt foolish for ever thinking that it would be so. She spent many of her evenings swilling ale with Isabela and Verric, and as little time as possible at home. She tried to do what she could to help Anders out at the clinic, although, as a force mage, she mostly just got in the way. Her healing skills were first aid at best, and she'd never been able to do much beyond stopping the bleeding.

She began to grow closer with everyone else in the group, which was a really good thing in many ways. She was alone now, but they could be her family.

But as time passed, she couldn't help but wonder if maybe she hadn't made a terrible mistake.

* * *

><p>They were at the Bone Pit, a miserably wretched place, where nothing seemed to want to grow and even the sky looked darker. They'd been called out to investigate yet another problem here, but Hawke was nothing if not determined to protect the miners who'd made her their advocate. This time the infestation was of the undead kind.<p>

"Great. Zombies," Anders complained in his usual resigned way.

For mindless creatures of instinct, they were remarkably well organized.

Sebastian took the lead, hoping to point out any traps, Fenris followed a few paces behind, and Hawke and Anders took up the rear. She just wanted this business over with. Hawke hated the mines. The walls seemed to echo with pain and suffering.

Rounding a bend, another group of undead appeared and were dispatched with brutal efficiency. The years had finely tuned them as a team, and Hawke questioned what she what do without them. Whenever things seemed to take a turn for the worse, Anders was there, bathing her in healing magic, or Sebastian would appear, raining arrows in a protective circle around her, or Fenris would arrive in a flash of blue, brutally knocking down all comers.

The sun had begun its slip beyond the herizon as the four of them stepped out into the open air. The mines were safe again, for now. Hawke was trying to decide where she wanted to go next when she realized with horror what Anders and Fenris were talking about.

"It's done. Leave it be," the elf said, sounding final.

"Well, good. I always knew she had some sense," Anders replied.

Feeling the tips of her ears burn, Hawke ran the steps it took her to catch up and pushed herself between the two men. "Do you mind? That's nobody's business." Darting a glance at Sebastian, she saw his mouth tighten and knew that, yes, she really was that unlucky. He'd heard. "Maker, but why do you two have to constantly be after each other?"

There was silence for a really long time after that and a hand full of hours later, they hit Hightown and began to go their separate ways.

Anders went in the direction of the undercity, his hand flicking a negligent wave their way. "Later."

Fenris tipped his head saying, "Goodnight," to them both, and headed toward the Hightown Estates and his mansion, leaving Hawke and Sebastian alone.

Feeling more nervous than she'd ever felt in her life, Hawke turned to him, a tentative smile on her lips. "Thanks for the help today."

Clearing his throat, he looked past her, as if staring up the steps to the Chantry would somehow magically teleport him there. "It was no problem."

He was polite, as always. It was sad how different things were between them now. She missed him. She missed his warmth. Looking at him now, Hawke couldn't remember the last time she'd seen him smile. She glanced at the Chanter's board, and realized that they were standing in the spot where she'd seen him for the very first time all those years ago. "Sebastian," reaching for his hands, she waited until his eyes met hers. "Will you walk me home? I'd like to talk to you."

She saw his eyes dart over her shoulder, in the direction of her estate before coming to rest on her face. "If you'd like."

He didn't hold on to her hand, not like he used to. He walked beside her, and she searched desperately for the right words. "What happened between Fenris and I, it wasn't something that I meant to happen. And it's not something that is ever going to happen again."

He spoke, before she could finish. "It's none of my business."

He didn't want to hear about it. Alright. "Then can I talk to you about us?"

He looked back over at her then nodded his assent. "Sure."

"Do you ever miss me?" she asked. She sounded vulnerable and she hated it. But at that moment all that mattered was his answer.

He looked uncertain for the briefest of moments, but then he saw something in her eyes that made him answer truthfully. "Of course I do."

Biting her lip she fought the need to hug him. Then she gave in. Stopping, she slid her her arm beneath one of his and around his waist. Pulling him against her, she rested her head on his chest. "What we had, it didn't seem like it was enough. But this... this _nothing_, it's so much worse." She stopped, and took a deep breath of air. "I miss you. Maker, but I miss you so much."

Tilting her chin up with a finger, he forced her to meet his eyes. "Hearing that makes me happier than you can imagine."

"I was wrong." She continued, unable to stop now that she'd started.

"You don't have to explain yourself to me. I understand."

"Maybe I need to explain it to myself. I care for you. But you weren't there for me. Even before I asked you to stay away. I needed... I don't know. And that night with Fenris, we were both lonely." What she'd had with Fenris had been animalistic, the instinctive need to find succor with a kindred soul. But it had never been about love. "I missed you more than I wanted to admit. Even to myself."

His hand stroked her hair, comforting her. "I said that I understand. I do."

"I want you to stop being so damn nice to me all the time. I'm not perfect. It's alright to disagree with me. And when I screw up, I want you to get mad at me! I _want_ it to be your business."

His arms tightened. "Then I shall definitely try to be less amicable from now on." They laughed a little, and it felt really, really good. Maybe they were going to be alright. Maybe they weren't broken.

He spoke again, and his voice sounded deeper than normal. "It won't be like this for ever. Once I'm established, I'll be able to give you everything."

Hugging him to her, she said, "All I need is for you to forgive me. And to try, for me, to believe that not all apostates are abominations or blood mages. There are many other mages who are just like me. Please, please remember that. You don't have to like it. But I need you to support me when I make the hard decisions. I don't need to be worried about you leaving in protest when I need you the most."

He tilted her chin until he could brush her lips with his. They kissed and Hawke had never felt happier in her life. "I'll try," he said with a smile.


	10. Chasing Safety

_A/N: I'll probably be going back and trying to rework earlier chapters - fix some things and maybe even add to a few of them (I know I have the terrible habit of ending my fic abruptly sometimes). I will be adding to this as my muse demands, but it's going to be at a slower rate than I've held myself to so far. Reviews always inspire me to continue faster, so I'd appreciate hearing from you!_

_Description: A little more together time around the events of 'Best Served Cold' in Act 3._

_Warnings: Sensuality and sexual content._

* * *

><p><strong>Chasing Safety<strong>

Cupping his palm, Sebastian let the water fill his gloved hand and chill his bare fingers.

Bringing handfuls of water to his parched lips, he drank deeply before using some of the cool liquid to smooth back his hair.

Sitting back on his haunches, he watched the rest of their party avail themselves of the garbling stream. Fenris was with them, along with Anders and Brutus. They spoke little, Hawke's desperation sparking an urgency within all of them. This was only a brief respite on their way back to the Wounded Coast.

Gripping his bow in his free hand, he watched Hawke through hooded eyes. She hadn't wanted to stop, not really, but her body's need for the cool drink had forced her into calling a halt to their mad dash to the rebel hideout. Her hands shook as she quenched her thirst, then used some of the water to wash her hands and face. Sighing, she reached for her staff, using it to help her upright. She leaned heavily against it, letting her eyes fall shut in a rare display of weakness.

"Are you alright?" Fenris asked, low, the concern in his voice obvious.

Opening her eyes, Hawke straightened, her soft mouth firming. "I'm fine. He'll be fine."

What propelled Sebastian forward next, he couldn't have said. Perhaps it was the remnants of jealousy he'd buried deep inside, jealousy of his elven friend and the closeness he'd always share with their beautiful leader. Perhaps he simply wanted to offer her his strength and support. Or maybe he'd just decided to claim her before these two men, knowing that to do so would set his path in a way he'd been unwilling to commit to so far.

Whatever the reason, he found himself moving toward her with purpose. Reaching her, he cupped her face and brought his lips to hers. He wasn't gentle because he knew that gentle wasn't what she needed. She went rigid against him before she responded, her tongue tangling with his as she fisted a hand in his hair. His palms moved to rest on her hips, holding her against him. He let the heat build pleasently inside him before breaking away.

She looked dazed as he released her. "We'll get there in time," he said with authority.

The others looked on in surprise. Noticing their regard for the first time, Hawke's cheeks pinkened. She gave the back of his neck a squeeze before she stepped back, ready to resume their rush for the meeting place. Gripping her staff, she nodded, her eyes filled with determination. "Come on. We have to hurry."

* * *

><p>When the dust had settled, Samson and Knight Captain Cullen took Alain and the surviving mages off, intent on returning them straightaway to the Gallows.<p>

Hawke's eyes ran all over her brother, a smile lighting up her face. Despite the younger man's less than sunny disposition, he was unharmed. He slapped at his sister's hands as she felt his arms in search of injuries.

"I'm sorry that you got dragged into all this. But it is rather comforting to know that should I ever really, really need you, stealing you away from the Wardens isn't entirely out of the question."

"Right," he said as he brushed himself off. "I'll have to make up something good. Maybe tell the others that the last tavern wench to give me the eye tied me up and held me captive until I was able to escape using only my wits and some sword polish." Finding his weapon in the dirt, he gave it a few quick swipes with his gauntleted hand. "Fenris," he tipped his head up in the elf's direction. He moved to Sebastian, and gave him a firm handshake. "Glad to see you're still around, at least."

Crouching, he ruffled Brutus's fur. "That's a good dog. You know, I think I've missed you more than the rest of this lot. Sure you wouldn't rather come with me?" The dog huffed in response, and Carver smiled, not the least bit surprised.

He and Anders eyed each other warily. They shared something now, something Hawke couldn't understand. "Anders."

"How've you been keeping?" the mage asked.

Carver shrugged. "I can't complain, abductions aside."

Anders laughed. "You know, for a while there, when we first got back from that trip to the Deep Roads, every time one of us got sick, your sister was convinced it was Blight disease. She'd fuss over every little cough and cold."

Carver looked at her with something very close to affection. His expression changed, becoming sad. "Well, it's been an adventure. But I really do need to get back to the others. Take care, sister."

She watched him leave, hugging herself. Her eyes were sad, but she turned, and graced them with a wistful smile. "Well. Since we're no longer in any kind of hurry ourselves, shall we make camp? This looks like as good a place as any."

She was right. It was sheltered by outcroppings of rocks on either side, with the coast at their back, and only a single defensible way in. The sound of the sea lulled them as they built a fire and Hawke set up her tent. They shared dried meat and bread, and passed a wine skin as they sat in companionable silence.

Fenris peered at a book through the failing light. Hawke had been teaching him how to read. Sebastian knew their closeness was platonic, but despite his best efforts, he couldn't help but wonder how things had gone between them that one night. He could admit, if only to himself, that he was more than a little angry that he wouldn't be the first. It was harder in some ways, since he couldn't hate Fenris. He was a good man, and Sebastian had always admired his determination.

Standing up, Hawke stretched, oblivious to the eyes that followed the seductive movement. "I'm beat. We'll break camp at first light. Don't stay up too late; I have a feeling we'll need our rest in the days to come."

She pulled off her boots before entering her tent and Brutus followed. He turned three or four circles before curling up just outside the flap.

* * *

><p><em>The grass nearly reached her knees as she ran across the lawn. Birds scattered, taking wing to float effortlessly in the sky above. <em>

_The wind of a perfect summer day tugged at their skirts. Bethany laughed, her hair swinging in twin braids, her brown eyes shining with the hopes and dreams of both young girls. Carver chased a toad, his dirty trousers trailing on the ground. Capturing his prey, he whooped with triumph. Noticing the nervous looks the girls shot his way, he took after them. Arms extended, he brought the toad to bear, chasing both girls, who shrieked in terror, running in fear even as they checked over their shoulders to be sure he followed._

_The sound of insects abruptly ceased, the birds fell silent, and the air went still. The ground seemed to tremble beneath their feet, as the sky grew dark, pressing down upon them._

_She wanted to shout, to tell them both it was time to go in, but when she opened her mouth, nothing came forth._

_The darkness surrounded them, pressing against her skin until she felt like she was falling. Fear choked her. She couldn't see Bethany or Carver any more, and the blackness sucked at her, gaining substance. She was drowning in it, and the more she tried to scream, the more it filled her mouth and nose, crushing her lungs until there was nothing left at all._

* * *

><p>Hawke's cry woke the whole camp. Sebastian reached for the dagger at his hip, gaining his feet quickly. He met the eyes of both men before looking to Brutus. The mabari's head was titled to the side, listening. He wasn't acting anything like he did when his mistress was in danger.<p>

Anders spoke in a loud whisper, "Bad dreams. Maybe I should..." He made a move to rise, but Sebastian gestured to him to stay put.

He looked to Fenris, who was sitting up, but the elf merely stared into the fire. Heading toward the tent, he stepped around Brutus, giving him a reassuring scratch behind the ears on the way. The war hound let his head drop back to his paws and made no move to stop him as he lifted the flap, ducking his head as he entered.

Hawke was breathing hard, clutching the blanket to her chest when he saw her. Wordlessly, he climbed in beside her, spooning his body around hers.

He tucked her head beneath his chin. "I'm here," he said softly, rubbing his cheek against her hair. She was silent, holding onto the arm he'd wrapped around her. "Do you want to talk about it? It might help."

She shook her head, settling back against him.

He held her, matching his breathing to hers. She twined their fingers together, giving his hands a squeeze. He figured he'd stay until she fell back to sleep. But as the minutes ticked by, she became restless. She pushed herself back against him, nuzzling her bottom against his groin. He held his breath as his blood began to heat. He couldn't hide his body's reaction.

Turning over to face him, she ran one hand up his side, feeling his warm body through the thin material of his shirt. He brushed her hair back from her face, allowing his hand to linger. Moving against him, she brushed his mouth with hers.

He quickly took control, pressing her mouth open so he could explore with his tongue, tasting her. She groaned into him, her hands clutching at his shirt. Their kisses became deep and soul sucking as her hands slid over his chest, then down across his belly. She gasped as his hands came up over her breasts, squeezing her soft flesh through her breast binding. She bit at the exposed skin of his neck, bringing one knee up and over his hip. She was groaning into his kisses, shifting against him in restless excitement. Boldly, she stroked one hand down, finding and squeezing the hardest part of him.

Pulling his mouth free from hers with a gasp, he captured her hands, bringing each one up and kissing it in turn. "Sweetheart... I want to. Just not here."

Feeling disappointment wash over her, she sighed in acceptance. Trying to calm herself, she took a deep breath, then held it as he moved down her body, pushing her onto her back.

He trailed kisses across her belly until he reached the silky barrier of her smallclothes. Reaching out one strong finger, he ran it over her, tracing down her slit and between her legs. She gasped, feeling every muscle in her body tighten. Pressing more firmly, he pet her, pressing the material against her until it was damp. She whimpered in frustration as he found her aching bead of flesh, pushing it back and forth until her thighs began to tremble. Hooking his thumbs inside the offending undergarment, he quickly had it down her legs and off of her. Then his mouth was there, covering her, and he was sucking at her flesh with strong, hard pulls.

She cried out and felt the fingers of one hand reach up to brush her mouth. She took his cue, covering her mouth with her own hand to stifle her cries.

The heat and the pleasure built inside her, each pull a rhythm that echoed the hammering of her heart. She felt him shift, and her heavy eyes slid open. Looking down, she saw that he'd freed himself and was stroking his own hard flesh in rhythm. The heat flowered open, her world exploding at the sight, and biting into the flesh of her own palm, she felt her body jerk, spasming against his mouth. He groaned into her, the vibrations setting off another series of sharp pulses.

She wanted to beg him to finish it, but in the end, all she could do was lay there in a boneless heap as he grunted, then moved up to lay beside her.

Cradling the side of her face in one big palm, he kissed her.

"Mmm. Thank you," she whispered.

He laughed a little, pulling her tighter against him. "You, sweetheart, are most welcome."


	11. Bring on the Rain

_A/N: And here you probably thought I'd forgotten what I said at the beginning of all this. I haven't! ;) Here's my rogue Hawke again (she's more of a purple sarcasti-Hawke than my mage). Act 2, early relationship._

_Description: Bethany was dragged off by Cullen to the Circle following the Deep Roads. Hawke is still trying to decide how she feels about it._

_Warnings: A lot of rain. Sensuality. Mild blood and gore._

* * *

><p><strong>Bring on the Rain<strong>

Sebastian and Hawke stepped out of Merrill's rickety front door and into the night. The wind had picked up, blowing strands of hair across her face, and she felt the first tentative drops of rain hit the bare skin of her cheeks and nose. She thought, briefly, of returning into the home of her small dark-haired friend, but discarded the idea out of hand. A little rain wasn't going to hurt.

The branches of the Vhenadahl sprawled overhead, offering them shelter as the rain picked up into a steady drizzle.

"What was that all about?" Sebastian asked curiously.

Heaving a sigh, Hawke walked over and dropped onto one of the benches that were tucked up against the massive tree's painted trunk.

She didn't like to visit Lowtown with the handsome man currently in her company. His cynical attitude regarding everything here in conjunction with his open way of sharing his thoughts on the matter combined to set Hawke's eyes to rolling. How could the man seem to be all at once so worldly and yet so naïve? Were things in Starkhaven really so much better? To hear him tell it, those seedy taverns of his disreputable youth had all been comfortably situated among the grand estates of the town's elite.

"Consolation. Strange that Merrill should be the one to ask after Bethany and not, say, Anders, of the vast Circle experience. The two women don't even get along." They sat in silence as the rain picked up, forming rivers in the streets. "I still don't know how I feel about it."

Sebastian took her hand, the dampness of their gloves helping the transfer of his body heat. "It's better for her there."

He sounded so sure about that. "It was everything my parents ever tried to prevent." Sighing, she looked up at the darkened sky through the leaves. "Maybe it was destined to happen from the moment we decided to come here."

Sebastian gave her hand a squeeze.

"Mother blames me. But she says that my sister seems happy enough. She passed her harrowing and she's been mentoring children. I just want to _see_ her. I'll know right away if she's miserable. But I haven't been able to. I'm not sure if it's the blighted templars or Bethany refusing me admittance, but each time I visit the Gallows, I'm turned away. If I could only see for myself..." Her chest rose and fell in another exaggerated sigh. "Ah, but even if she is unhappy, what could I do?"

"You've heard nothing from her at all?" he asked.

"She sends me letters. She sounds like the same old Bethany. I just... I miss her." She gave a short laugh."It's ridiculous. She's here, in this very city. But what if I never see her again?"

"The Maker has a plan for all of us. Your sister is where she's supposed to be. As are you and I."

It was strange, but despite her usual lack of faith, she found his words comforting. She laughed as she felt a warmth creep into her chest that had been missing for a very long time. "We're _supposed _to be here? Out in the rain?"

He squeezed her hand harder, bringing her arm tight against his. "You know what I mean."

Feeling infinitely better about the world as a whole, Hawke stood, peering out into the rain drenched streets. "We could try to wait this out, but it might continue all night. I say we make a run for it." She tightly clenched his hand before letting it go.

Stepping out into the deluge, they were both drenched to the bone in a matter of moments. The pair made their way up the steps and toward the Old City Slums. Hawke shuddered as she remembered that she used to live here. The filth of dust and rotting garbage was somewhat relieved by the downpour.

Sheets of rain united with the failing light, making it very difficult to see. When at last she saw the waiting group of Dog Lord gang members, it was too late to stealth past them; by the time the two realized the danger, they were already upon them. They consisted of a motley mix of archers and melee fighters supported by ferocious mabari.

Aveline had said her goodnights as they'd entered the Alienage earlier, so the two of them were on their own.

Hawke lunged into the fray, using her rush ability to knock down a cluster of enemy fighters. She brought her twin blades to bear, slashing violently at arms and legs and deploying smoke pellets to scatter and confuse the group's greater numbers.

Sebastian retreated when he could, holding them off and fighting from range, using his dagger on anything that got too close.

Gripping her blades with purpose, she struck out at enemy vitals, spraying blood and gore to mingle in puddles of rainwater at her feet, until the rain-slicked streets ran with the lifeblood of their enemies.

Dodging a particularly ferocious back stab, Hawke swung around and sliced through the belly of their final human opponent. Turning, she saw that Sebastian was surrounded by four attack hounds. Deploying her back-to-back talent instantly brought her up against the other rogue, and with pinpoint strikes, they brought the quartet of canines down together.

Breathing heavily, she met Sebastian's wide eyes, watching the rainwater roll down his nose and off his chin. He broke into a white-toothed grin, and the two of them laughed in exhilaration.

"You're a very capable fighter, Hawke."

"Hey, you helped. A little." Laughing, the pair gathered themselves, searching for injuries that might have gone overlooked in all that water. Finding nothing amiss, they took off at a jog, running at a reserved and easy pace until they hit Hightown. The noise of the rain made conversation difficult, so they moved in a amicable silence. There were no other gang members about, thankfully, so they reached the door to Hawke's estate without further mishap.

Stooping into the doorway and out of the direct path of the rain, they stopped, turning to face each other. His face showed shiney and wet, his hair darker than normal and curling wildly. Their breath came out in puffs of vapor. Stepping up onto her toes, Hawke pulled him in by his arm and against her, leaning close to touch her wet nose to his. His lips were so close, she could touch her tongue to him if she chose.

She watched him, saw the tips of his ears go red and his jaw firm. It was endearing how easily flustered he was. She moved slowly, giving him the time he needed to pull away. Brushing her mouth softly against his, she felt the thrill of it to her toes. His mouth opened, encouraging hers to do the same, and their tongues met to softly roll against each other. He was incredibly warm, contrasting starkly with her cold lips.

Pulling back, Hawke's eyes opened, and she wrinkled her nose. "I'm going to head in and take a hot bath."

The smile left Sebastian's eyes, but remained politely on his lips. Nodding, he stepped back out into the downpour. "Goodnight, Hawke," he said, his voice raised slightly to be heard over the rain.

Closing the door and leaning back against it, Hawke watched puddles form on the polished floors at her feet. Life was good. She'd always loved the rain, and although dangerous, tonight had been amazing.

Running up the stairs to her chamber, she began to pull off sodden pieces of armor, thinking of the cobalt-eyed archer, her mind awhirl with endless possibilities.


	12. Shiver

_A/N: Mage!Hawke, Act 3. Funny, although I call this a collection of oneshots, it's pretty obvious that the pieces featuring my mage are interconnected. That really wasn't intentional. Also: is anyone reading this stuff or what? I need to know interest, or I'm going to quit adding to this._

_Description: Hawke comes down with something and Sebastian is there to care for her._

_Warnings: Sensuality and UST. (I swear, there will be full-blown sexings soonish. Like next chapter, for sure.)_

* * *

><p><strong>Shiver<strong>

Darktown made Hawke feel claustrophobic. She hadn't been down here in a long while, and although the passing of so many years had wrought changes throughout Kirkwall, the undercity was nothing if not constant. Kirkwall's poor and unwanted congregated down with its refuse. The huddling figures used to consist mainly of her countrymen, Fereldens who'd come to escape the Blight, just as she had, but they were gone now, replaced with different but similarly vacant faces, pinched with hunger, many of them children. Too bad they all couldn't board one of the ships sent by the King for the purpose of getting his people home before the storm could overtake them all.

The airflow was decent. There were sections along the eastern side that opened to the sea, but there was no escape in that direction, nothing but a steep drop onto rocky cliffs below. No, it was the lifelessness of the place, all of the dirt and rock above, that made coming here so uncomfortable. Nothing grew here, no plants, no hopes or dreams, just the dredges, the lowest of the city's undesirable.

The wind pulled at her cloak and she gathered the edges together with a fist at the neck. It was bone-chillingly cold. She was exhausted and sore, longing for the fire that was always burning at home.

They'd come down here to follow up on a few leads. Ser Marlein Selbrech had told her about the hidden supply cache here, and they'd scouted the place and found it loosely guarded. Two or three templars and only a handful of mercenaries later, they'd made off with the goods, and Hawke was confident that things were moving forward.

She sniffed into her fist, hoping to muffle the sound, but Sebastian heard it regardless.

"You alright?" The concern on his face was welcome, but unnecessary.

"I'm fine. Just a bit of a chill."

He moved closer and wrapped an arm around her, offering his body heat. "We could run by the clinic while we're down here."

"Don't be silly. It's nothing serious, I assure you." It wasn't. "And I've been avoiding that place," she smiled, adding strength to her words. In truth, she wasn't avoiding the clinic so much as the man who made his home there. Things had grown increasingly awkward between her and the other mage, not only since he'd used their friendship to blackmail her into helping him get past the Grand Cleric, but just these past few months in general. They'd both been dealing with too much lately, but whenever they did have occasion to speak, he'd been distracted and easy to anger, and Hawke was just too weary at the moment to try to mediate peace between Anders and herself or anyone else.

"You're cold. We should find someplace to warm up."

She nodded in agreement. "Alright. But don't worry. It's nothing, really."

But the next day, she had trouble leaving her bed. She wrapped up in a blanket, padding around the house in stockinged feet. She put on some tea, but found herself racing back for the comfort of her room. She couldn't shake the chill and she was more weary than she'd been when she'd retired the night before. She had Bodhan help her pile more blankets upon the bed, and swiftly returned to the arms of Morpheus.

She stirred around noontide, and called for Orana to bring her quill and parchment. She penned missives to Sebastian and Varric, informing them that anything planned for the day would have to be rescheduled. She trusted the latter of the two to get the word out to anyone who needed to know.

Aveline appeared shortly after the dinner hour. "What's this, now? Since I've known you, you've never spent an entire day abed. Even when you should have."

Aveline spoke of grief, or too much drink, so Hawke childishly stuck her tongue out. "Oh, do leave me alone, Aveline. I'm fine, really, I just needed rest."

"This just isn't like you," she insisted. Moving closer, she touched a hand to Hawke's forehead, checking for fever.

Hawke laughed, swiping her hand away. "Leave off. Don't you have a husband at home? I assure you, I'm not dying. I'm just taking it easy. The growing crisis can spare me for a day or two, I imagine."

Aveline shrugged, content to take Hawke at her word. "I suppose it can, at that."

"I see that Varric wasted no time spreading the news."

"Actually, Sebastian came to the barracks and told me."

"Really."

"You like him," she said. It wasn't a question.

"Let's not."

"Hey, I'm not being judgmental. You could use some stability in your life."

Groaning, Hawke pulled a pillow from beneath herself, placing it over her head. "You know what? I lied. I feel like shit. Please leave." The muffled order came from beneath layers of linen.

* * *

><p>Hawke had some bread and broth. Read a little. Her eyes were beginning to drift closed again when she heard a knock on her doorjamb.<p>

Sebastian stepped inside the room, concern knitting his brows. He had forgone his armor on this rare occasion, and was wearing black pants and a simple brown tunic over a plain white shirt.

"Hey, you," she said, sitting up a little straighter.

"How are you faring?" He took a few reserved footsteps into the room, stopping before he was within reach.

"It's just a case of the sniffles. Why... have you stopped way over there?" She'd hoped for a bit of physical contact. A hug, at the very least. "You're not going to catch anything," she teased.

Giving a brisk shake of his head, his face flooded with color. "No, it's not that. I'm just... concerned that it might be improper for me to enter your chamber..."

"You're kidding, right?" He'd never been in her room, but they'd been effectually alone in the house countless times. "Are you afraid that I might sully your reputation?" She laughed as his jaw clenched. "Get over here." Propping herself up against the pillows, she patted the bed beside her in welcome. "If you stay atop the covers, I promise to preserve your virtue," she snickered. "If I try anything untoward, you can always holler for Sandal."

He settled himself next to her, chuckling. "That's all the reassurance I need." He was close enough that their arms rested against each other, and he took her closest hand in his. "You appear to be of fine mettle this evening. Are you doing alright?"

"I'm just cold. It's too bad I can't convince you to strip off and slide in here to warm me." She was a hussy. But his smile was worth it.

"Is there anything else I can do?"

"Nope. I'm happy you came." And she was.

"I've never known you to get sick."

"I'm robust." Her nose wrinkled. "It's been years since I was ill."

"Well, what usually makes you feel better?" he asked.

"I have a tradition of pretending things are fine. Mother liked to hover..." Their smiles faded at the turn in topic. "Her cure for everything was usually a bath. Feverish? Take a cold bath. Too cold? Take a scalding one. Bleeding injuries? Soak them in the bath."

"There is sense in that," he said.

She turned to him, jabbing him in the ribs with a finger. "Oh, well, if you're volunteering to be chambermaid, I'll happily oblige."

His smile faltered, and for a moment, Hawke was afraid that she'd put him off. Then he left the bed, heading for the door. "As you wish."

"But what about your virtue?" she called after him, feeling her heart give a little flip.

Turning back to her, he grinned. "Hawke, you're infirm. I can tend to you without worries."

She laughed.

Sebastian had Sandal help him move her copper tub before the fireplace and then fill it. Hawke got up and fetched her soaps and some towels, waving Orana off to bed when she offered to assist.

Her stomach fluttered with nervous excitement. She was warmer already. She only hoped Sebastian wouldn't lose his bravado when her houserobe came off.

She tested the water and found it perfect, just this side of blistering. Reaching for the folds of her robe, she swallowed, hoping that the man in the room with her would like what he saw.

Sebastian cleared his throat, his face becoming serious. "I don't mind leaving if you require privacy."

"No," she answered quickly. Neither of them were allowed to lose their nerve. "Stay. Please."

His adam's apple bobbed as her clothing slid to the floor, piece by piece. It was thrilling, showing him her body for the very first time, and her toes curled as, completely bare, she stepped into the tub. She could feel the heat of his gaze touching her all over.

He knelt beside her, dipping a cloth into the water. Neither of them spoke as he wrung it out, then reached for a bar of soap. He worked up a rich lather, then gently rubbed her shoulders. He broke the silence first, with a strange choice in topic. "How old do you suppose Sandal is?"

"I'm not really sure. He's a bit of a man-child isn't he? He couldn't have been younger than his late 'teens when I met him, and he's been with us for years..."

"His father takes good care of him."

"The relationship is symbiotic. They need each other, I think."

The cloth swept down her back, and Hawke leaned forward, her arms coming up so she could lift her hair off the back of her neck. He placed a kiss there, on her damp shoulder. "Do you think you'll ever want kids?"

"Two." She'd thought this through. "One girl and one boy."

She could feel his breath on her skin as he laughed. "It doesn't always work out that way, you know."

"How about you?" she asked.

"Me? I want at least seven. A regiment of my own making." They both laughed. Then Hawke felt her smile slip as she pictured seven children, boys and girls with rich auburn hair and beautiful blue eyes. He cupped the side of her cheek. "I should let you finish." His husky voice sent tremors through her. Handing her the cloth, he stood, walking over to look out one of her windows while she finished her bath.

Without him to watch, Hawke grew tired of the water, and tired in general, the warmth of the water had seeped into her bones and made her drowsy. Rinsing off everything above the waterline, she stood, dripping.

Sebastian retrieved a towel, and wrapped her up, rubbing her through the cloth until her skin glowed.

She rarely slept naked, but tonight, she decided she would. Boldly dropping her towel, she lifted the blankets, sliding into bed. "Can you hand me my comb? It's just there," she said, pointing.

She combed through her hair as she watched him tidy up her mess, mopping up stray puddles with her used towel and putting away all her soaps. With nothing left to do, he returned her comb where he'd gotten it, then leaned to kiss her forehead. "I should probably..."

"Don't go," she said.

"Hawke. You need to rest. I wouldn't want to see you get worse."

She captured one of his hands. "I promise, if I'm not better in the morning, you can send for Anders. But stay. Please."

He smiled. "I can refuse you nothing. You know that." Sitting on the edge of her bed, he pulled off his boots. Fully clothed, he stretched out beside her, staying safely atop the blankets.

She adjusted her damp hair, then turned to face him. "Can I get a goodnight kiss?"

"Yes. But _only a kiss_. I mean it." He sounded so firm and serious that she couldn't help but laugh.

He framed her face in his hands, softly brushing her lips with his. And it was the sweetest thing she'd ever experienced. "Goodnight," he murmured against her.

Sighing in contentment, she drifted off to sleep.


	13. More Than the Sum of its Parts

_A/N: This picks up right where 'Shiver' left off. I have one or two little plot bunnies left in my notebook, so we'll see. Updates may be sporadic, depending on interest (which seems to be waning), but I won't mark this 'complete' just yet. Also: I was going to edit the crap out of the naughty parts, like I normally do, but right now, I'm just too lazy to do it. Give me a holler if you think it's too offensive as it is, and I'll chop it down for you.  
><em>_  
>Description: Culmination. For real, this time.<em>

_Warnings: SMUT. Sensuality and graphic sexual content._

* * *

><p><strong>More Than the Sum of its Parts<strong>

Sebastian was still there when she awoke. Hawke's eyelids fluttered open to find him asleep beside her. The very first hint of dawn shone through the high windows, and the fire had died sometime during the night, bringing a bit of a chill to the room.

She slowly stretched her legs, pointing her toes toward the open bedroom door. The house beyond her doorway remained quiet, the hour was still too early for anyone to be up and about.

Hawke brought her bare arms out from beneath the covers, pulling the edge of the blanket up to touch her chin. She felt like herself again, it seemed that whatever had ailed her had fixed itself while she slept.

She turned her head to consider the sleeping man in her bed. His thick lashes lay like feathers upon his cheeks, his strong face relaxed in repose. She studied his features, his wonderfully imperfect nose, his full lips, and the stray hairs that curled against his forehead. His breathing was deep and even, his chest rising and falling in rhythm.

She reached out to him with a cautious hand, softly smoothing his hair back, watching as his eyes slowly slid open. He gazed at her through narrowed lids as she ran her fingertips through his hair, sliding down to brush against an ear, then trace the curve of his jaw. He'd sprouted bristles during the night and the light scratch of them made the skin of her palm tingle.

Moving closer to him, she brought her face right next to his, allowing their noses to touch. She met his intense gaze before letting her eyes fall closed, brushing her mouth against his. Her fingers tangled in his hair as he responded, his lips rubbing hers, coaxing her mouth to open.

He kissed her hungrily, his hands moving to cup her face. His tongue explored, soft and warm, his mouth pulling at hers insistently. His breathing sped up and he moved closer, bringing his chest against her.

Hawke sucked in a breath, her dazed eyes opening as his mouth moved down to her throat, dragging his teeth and tongue against her. He started to pull at the blanket that shrouded her, impatiently baring her to the waist. Then his hands were there, smoothing over her bare skin, pulling at pebbled nipples. Continuing its journey, his mouth traveled down into the shadowed valley between her breasts, rubbing his lightly stubbled face against her. The sensation was incredible, and Hawke's eyes fell closed as he licked around a small pink areola. He swiped at the hard peak with his tongue, drawing it into his mouth to nibble and suck.

This was getting out of hand. If he was going to call an end to it, as he always did, he needed to hurry.

Sebastian's hands returned to the blanket. He made an impatient noise in his throat before pulling back.

Hawke was on fire, desire blazed in her eyes as she watched Sebastian scoot back off the bed and stand up.

"Wha..?" she began, as he strode to the door, closing and bolting it carefully. He lifted the jerkin over his head during the trip back to her, leaving him in shirtsleeves. Grasping the blankets, he gave them a yank, pulling them free of the bed and dropping them into a heap on the floor.

She was completely bare to his gaze now. He rested a knee on the mattress, coming down beside her as his eyes ran over her intently. His hands swept across her shoulders, down her ribcage, and over her belly. His kisses ranged from her mouth, down her neck and over her chest. He bit at her flesh with sharp teeth, soothing the pinch with his lips and tongue.

He seemed to want nothing more than to feel his skin against hers. He pulled at his shirt, freeing his arms and torso before fumbling at his belt.

Hawke helped divest him of his trews, pulling them along with his smallclothes down his strong legs, bunching them around his ankles, then off, pushing everything over the side of the bed. She drank in the sight of his golden body, the hard muscles of his thighs and lower belly dusted with a sprinkling of copper hair. His manhood rose up proud and red with blood, curving toward his navel, the tip large and plum-shaped. Her hands settled on his flanks. His flesh nearly scalded her, the fascinating texture of his skin and the bunching muscle beneath made her heart pound with longing.

He grabbed her knees and pulled, causing her to fall back against the pillows. His mouth was on her again, working its way down her belly. His hands fell to her thighs, pushing them apart as he came down to rest between.

Hawke's breath hitched as Sebastian nuzzled the patch of hair between her legs. His thumbs slid against her, parting her folds. She gasped as he looked down at what he'd revealed.

"You are so beautiful, sweetheart," he said thickly. Leaning forward, he let his warm breath wash over her exposed flesh.

Hawke's thighs trembled as his head moved closer. Her hand fisted in his hair as his tongue came out, lapping at her with quick, firm touches. Hawke's breath caught as he licked at the bead of flesh nestled inside her folds, lashing it in a sharp dance that had her hips pushing into him.

She couldn't breathe, and dark spots danced before her eyes as he brought her to a quick climax.

She gasped for air, twitching all over as he climbed his way back up her body. He captured her mouth, kneeing his way between her boneless legs. He cupped her bottom, using it to pull her close. Hawke met his smoldering gaze, her hands running up his strong arms and across his chest. She reached for his cock, squeezing him as she trailed kisses over his chest, licking his coppery nipples. Pushing him back so she could reach, Hawke licked at his belly, nuzzling the soft hair that lightly trailed below his navel. She blew a breath of air over the head of his shaft, watching it jerk at the contact. She placed a kiss upon the crown, licking her lips in anticipation. She could taste him, and her belly clenched with excitement.

He cradled her head for just a moment before pulling her away, stopping her before she could cap him with her mouth. "No," he said softly. "You'll unman me."

His arms hooked beneath her thighs, and he pulled her pelvis forward, positioning himself against her.

Briefly, something that Isabela had once said to her came to mind. _"The woman on the receiving end of all that passion is going to be _in _for it. Can you imagine, all the pent up desire from denying himself for so long? Delicious."_

A frisson of fear ran through her as she met his eyes. She watched his face, his teeth set into his full lower lip as his gaze followed the strong hand that grasped his shaft. He was watching, following everything with fervent eyes as he prepared to take her. His breathing was loud and ragged as he nudged her opening, slipping against the wet folds. Bracing himself so he'd still be able to see, he pushed.

Her flesh stretched, giving way.

He grunted as his hips began to rock against hers, slowly gaining depth with each inward shove.

His eyes fell shut when he reached full penetration. Gritting his teeth, he held, briefly. "Okay?" he asked, his voice sounding raspy and deep.

Hawke could only nod, which he must have felt, even with his eyes closed.

She felt stretched, stuffed full of him, and overwhelmed by his possession.

His hips began to pump, slowly at first, then picking up speed as he fought to align their bodies just right. He seemed to be trying to rub a certain part of himself against a specific area inside her. He shifted, his movements choppy and uneven.

Her body jerked with the force of his efforts. She was hyperaware of every sensation, pleasure flooding her from head to toe. She clutched at his forearms, feeling him against her, and inside, touching her deep.

Hawke's toes curled as a broad thumb moved between their bodies, traveling down to brush against her clit. It was too much, too sharp, the intensity of the sensations almost scared her as her body convulsed into liquid tremors.

His strong hands bit into her thighs as he moved her legs back toward her chest, positioning her so she couldn't move. The angle caused him to reach deeper and Hawke imagined she could feel him slamming up against her womb. His speed increased, sweat dripping off his nose as he hammered into her, his thrusts powerful and erratic. Shuddering, his pace became frenzied, then he suddenly pulled free, his cock spilling its offering onto her trembling belly. A low masculine groan accompanied the pulses of pearly liquid.

He held her still, catching his breath. Then he moved on unsteady feet, fetching one of the unused towels from her bath the night before. Tenderly, he wiped her stomach clean.

Hawke felt she could see his heart in his eyes, the look he gave her was so tender. Reaching down to touch her belly, she smoothed the remnants of his seed into her skin, meeting his eyes as he tossed the towel away.

Pulling her up against him, he kissed her with a fierceness she'd never felt. He moved back, meeting her eyes. "I love you."

Hawke's heart missed a beat. She hugged him close. Fear, happiness, and pain warring inside her. She didn't say it back. She just held him tight.

"What's going to happen to us?" she whispered into the warmth of his neck.

"I don't know. But I promise, no matter what happens, nothing will come between us."

She hoped he was right. "Come," she said, pulling his hand as she lay back down, "I might just need to spend another day abed."


	14. Fate or Chance

_A/N: Inspiration for this chapter lies with emmav over on deviantART and tersa on LiveJournal. Also, thanks in advance to those of you kind enough to leave feedback. It means a lot._

_Description: Sebastian meets Alistair, Act 3._

_Warnings: Hot Sebastian on Alistair slash! I kid, I kid! Absolutely nothing for this chapter, believe it or not._

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><p><strong>Fate or Chance<strong>

Hawke leaned back from her writing desk with a smile. Most of the letters she recieved were pleas for help, or brief words of graditude, but she felt a curl of excitement in her belly at this. The missive had been brief, penned in a carefully scripted hand.

_Champion,_

_Meet me in the Keep._

_-King Alistair_

Not only did she look forward to seeing the fabled Grey Warden King, she knew just the man who'd be overjoyed to meet him as well.

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><p>Hawke recognized hero worship when she saw it. She couldn't stifle her grin as Sebastian strode beside her with purpose.<p>

They'd all heard the tales, from Varric and others, of the Bastard King who'd come from nowhere to deliver Ferelden from the arms of Civil War and save all of Thedas from the Blight. There were people here who had trouble believing it, that the last two Grey Wardens in all of Ferelden had managed to slay the Archdemon, but between what she'd garnered from Anders and letters from Carver, it was absolutely true.

On the subject of Anders, Hawke had decided to bring him along as soon as her initial excitement over the impending meeting had settled. She'd spent very little time in his company lately, and hoped that this could be a step toward making up for the lack. The mage was among the current group making its way to Viscount's Keep. Brutus trotted alongside the trio as they entered the impressive building situated just south of Hawke's estate.

History said that this and Kirkwall's Chantry were both originally built as homes for some of the city's most powerful magisters. The vaulted ceilings and sheer size of the rooms within made the idea difficult for Hawke to fathom.

Their group passed Knight Commander Meredith on their way in. Hawke had been avoiding the place following Viscount Dumar's death. It had become something of a templar haven since then, and despite her distinguished role as Kirkwall's Champion, she could never find herself at ease here now that Meredith was the city's de facto ruler.

Aveline was already there, speaking to what could only be the King himself. Hawke was thankful that she'd worn her armor in lieu of a fancy dress when she got her first good look at the warrior King. He was larger than life, his polished heavy plate making him appear massive even within the expanse of the great hall. He spoke in subdued tones to the Guard Captain, then turned a welcoming smile upon Hawke as the redhead made introductions. His handshake was firm, his face open and friendly, with kind eyes and an infectious smile. He was as handsome and charismatic as the legends said, and after thanking Hawke for coming to meet with him, he offered both Anders and Sebastian a benevolent greeting as well.

"It's an honor," Sebastian said, clasping the King's hand.

"Sebastian Vael. Of Starkhaven? I've heard quite a bit about you. I may be able to help you with your little problem."

Sebastian's eyes widened at him. "I... well, yes, that would be very much appreciated."

Alistair gave him a curt nod before turning to Anders. "Hey! Fancy meeting _you _again."

The mage's smile didn't quiet meet his eyes. "Your Majesty."

The King surprised them all by stooping down to ruffle the fur on Brutus's head. "Nice dog. My wife has one. Her brother breeds them."

Hawke felt warmth spread through her chest. "Oh, I'd love to get one for Carver."

Anders spoke as the King straightened. "How is the old slave driver? Still stepping in to 'save' people by making them Wardens?"

Right. Hawke remembered. The Warden Commander of Ferelden had married her fellow Warden after the fall of the Archdemon. Page Cousland had been her name, although Hawke supposed it was Therin now. This same Warden had used her influence as well as the Right of Conscription to save Anders's neck from the hangman's noose once upon a time.

Alistair ignored the subtle jab of irony in Anders's words, or at least he pretended to. "She's well. Although, I doubt she'll believe me when I tell her that I found you here..." A threat rode his words, hanging in the air like cloying perfume.

Anders cleared his throat. "Give her my regards." There was a pregnant silence before he continued. "Hey, we just saw Zevran not too long ago."

The King's eyebrows rose in surprise. "Really?"

Sebastian gave a derisive chuckle. "And what a colorful fellow _he_ was."

Alistair laughed easily. "Nice to know some things never change." He sobered, turning back to face Hawke. "Yes, well, I was hoping we could talk. I wanted to touch base with Kirkwall's leader. And as of now, that means you or the Knight Commander."

Hawke felt like she should protest. She was a mage, after all, and Champion or no, the city would never support her bid for the Viscount's seat. "Oh, but I'm not even sure what good I could do you."

Alistair lifted a hand to stop her demur. "We know of the unrest here. I'd like to offer my support, should you decide you require it. I may find myself in need of allies myself soon enough, and as a fellow Ferelden, I'd like to look to you."

Hawke glanced around the room, noticing the abundance of templars observing their exchange with folded arms. Her eyes met those of the King and reaching out for one strong hand she spoke, "You have a deal."

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><p>Hawke had decided that drinking was in order.<p>

"The Hanged Man. Don't we _always _end up here?" Sebastian griped.

Night had fallen as the pair made their way to Lowtown. "It's either here or The Rose." They sat with their heads together at the little table in the corner they regularly occupied during their visits. It was late enough that Isabela and Varric were both absent, and cradling her mug, Hawke smiled at the handsome man beside her. "So... the support of a King? Not too shabby."

Sebastian grinned despite himself. "Aye."

He leaned close, placing a quick, hard kiss upon her mouth. Sitting back, he let one hand stray over her cheek, moving around to the back of her neck. He rubbed just below her hairline absently, watching as she sipped at her ale.

He was most likely thinking of Starkhaven and his family. They hadn't really discussed his plans and Hawke had learned not to push. They'd settled into a comfortable pattern, spending much of their time together, but not really speaking of what was coming, the conflict between templars and mages, with the two of them in the middle, an apostate mage and a brother in the Chantry.

If she thought too much about it, the nagging worries would keep Hawke up at night. So she took what she could. For the moment, having this man beside her was really all she needed.


	15. Helpless

_A/N: Sorry it's been ages. I do hold out some hope that there may be a bit of Sebastian in store for us in DA3, but I'll admit a lot of my dreams were dashed with the death of the planned DA2 expansion. Alas, it may ultimately lie with us, the fans, and fanfiction to imagine what happens next with Seb, so I won't mark this collection complete just yet._

_Description: Late Act 2, directly following All That Remains. My imagining of a scene following the death of Leandra._

_Warnings: none._

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><p><strong>Helpless<strong>

A vase holding white lilies sat on the sideboard. The scent of them followed Sebastian up the staircase.

His footsteps felt heavy as his right hand ran up the banister, taking one step at a time.

He felt awkward and useless as he approached the doorway, stopping just short of the frame. He'd never seen Hawke's bedchamber before, but it didn't feel like it should. The new found intimacy rang hollow. Moments like this, of loss and pain, left their mark. He stifled his desire to cough as protectiveness pressed in on him, threatening to make him choke.

It was too quiet, her gasping breaths the only sound he could hear over his own pounding heartbeat.

She sat with her back to him, on the softness of a neatly made bed.

A lump formed in his throat at the sight of her. He couldn't swallow around it. He couldn't pretend that he understood completely, the enormity of it, yes, losing everything, but not the responsibility he knew she bore for it.

His armor felt bulky and uncomfortable, it weighted him down as his eyes followed the lines of her house robe. Back bent, she had her face buried inside small white hands, her shoulders sagging under the weight of her grief.

Perhaps coming here had been a mistake. Maybe what she really needed was time alone.

He felt his teeth clench, wondering at the evil men do. Now was not the time to quote the Chant. Unable to think of what he could possibly say or do, he retreated in silence, passing the Guard Captain on his way out the mansion's front door.


End file.
